Till Death Do Us Reunite
by Curiosity
Summary: The SnapeLily slightly schmoopy love and forgiveness in the afterlife story, because everyone wants it to happen after reading DH.


_when we die, we go into the arms of those who remember us_

_Well, bugger_, Severus Snape thought. That was just infuriating. He should have known better. He had bezoars and numerous potions for this sort of thing- he could stopper death, for Merlin's sake! He'd done it to Albus. Yet he'd allowed an overgrown reptile to get the best of him. Absolutely unacceptable.

Now, to business. Where the hell was he? Surely he should be burning in a lake of fire or somesuch by now, for all his sins? He _was _dead, wasn't he? He took stock of his surroundings. Oh, now that just would not do. He refused to be nude as well as clueless. Though the Dark Mark on his arm did appear to be gone, which was an improvement. He supposed there had to be some perks to being dead. He'd been sick of staring at that ugly excuse for a tattoo. The Dark Lord had had very little fashion sense, and still less taste. That sickly shade of green had really only gone with black, thus the Deatheater robes. Not that he, Severus Snape, had ever been concerned with fashion. He'd worn black all his life in mourning for Lily. Completely different. But he was just saying.

There. He wrapped his school cloak around himself. Much better. Hang on, school cloak? He hadn't been this befuddled since that unfortunate incident with the tavern witch, the firewhiskey and that blasted song _I May Be a Tiny Chimney Sweep but I've Got An Enormous Broom._ He glared at his defiantly nondescript surroundings. A white room. Charming. Creative lot, these afterlife blokes. Either he'd lost his vision or the room was going fuzzy. He longed for his wand, but he had a feeling they'd meant it when they said you can't take it with you. Damn. He wondered what the Potter boy had done with his memories. Jumped to the wrong conclusion as usual, in all likelihood. He'd be remembered as Severus Snape, martyr. Or worse still, Severus Snape, who had a touching _unrequited_ love for Lily Evans. Well, it wasn't as if he was going to show the boy some of his more adult memories. Those were private, and none of his business besides.

Wait a moment; the setting was resolving itself into the school grounds at Hogwarts. Bollocks. Even in death, he couldn't get away from the place, it seemed. He allowed himself the indulgence of a longsuffering sigh. It wasn't, after all, as if anyone was around to hear him.

And yet… there was a figure on the horizon, rapidly approaching. The summer sun caught in her red hair as she ran- _No! _It could not be. He had been too selfish, too callous and cold, too dark of heart and corrupt of spirit. Lily, as pure as she had been, should have gone straight to heaven, not to whatever limbo he was condemned to. Wetness pricked his eyes and he found it highly surprising that he could still cry. Was he shedding tears or ectoplasm? He wasn't a ghost, surely. He gave the elusive figure his best professorial scowl, the one that had sent fear into the hearts of many a prefect. The figure was still there, waving and flailing its arms. Snape found himself running toward the figure, a fool's hope thrilling through his chest. If he'd had a phantom heart, it would have been pounding. The analytical part of his mind detachedly commented that he was behaving exactly as if he was in one of those horrid films where the two lovers run across fields of clover to embrace. But then, the analytical part of his mind was what had condemned him to solitude and misery for much of his life, so what the bloody hell was he doing listening to it, anyway?

And then they had collided, and he was being crushed to her and all the years and pain between them melted away and she was murmuring over and over "I forgive you, welcome home." He held her back at arm's length, just to look into her eyes. Those fierce green eyes her son had inherited, those eyes from which he could never hide. She looked so young, just as he had always remembered her. He wondered how he looked to her, then decided it didn't matter.

"You're a sight for sore eyes." He smirked. He could easily believe that. He probably looked a fright. "It's so good to see you. I've been waiting rather a long time for you to show up."

"Lily. Where are we?"

"It's a sort of crossroads. You didn't notice the carriages? They're here to take you on." Thank God for that, Severus thought. He'd been afraid he'd be stuck wandering around a deserted Hogwarts like a ghost on the moors, banging his head against a tree and wailing "Lily" for all eternity. He didn't want to ask, but he knew he had to. This was probably the result of his dying wish; he'd get to see her one last time before hell opened up and swallowed him.

"Where am I going?" He steeled himself for the answer, or for her to turn into a demon.

"Where do you want to go?" He blinked. The question was so simple, yet so unexpected. The answer was equally simple. If he had a choice…

"Wherever you are." She smiled up at him, and he could swear the sun was blinding him, the place was so bright. He lifted her up in his arms and spun her around, just to prove that he could.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"You mean I-? No. I don't deserve-" He turned away, unable to face her and the unrelenting compassion in her gaze.

"Sev." The pet name was like balm to his soul. "Whatever sins you may have committed have long since been atoned for. We're free now." She waited for him to say something. He couldn't think of a thing that would be worthy of this moment. "Free to be together," she added. Lily caressed his cheek and gazed at him for a long, tongue-tying moment. "Now would be a good time to kiss me." Now that was alarming.

"What about-"

"James? Well, I figure he had me last time around. And all the years until now. Fair's fair." She had a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I think he'll just have to be a man about it and share me, won't he? Just because his heart wasn't inclined to love two people…" That did it. Being dead was not nearly as awful as he'd expected, Snape reflected as he bent his head down and brought his lips to hers, claiming her and loving her and doing all the things he had never been able to say before. They had all the time in the universe to love each other, and he would willingly have taken it all.

"An age at least to every part, and the last age should show your heart. For, lady, you deserve this state, nor would I love at lower rate," he whispered, forcing his throat to form words he should have said a long time ago.

"I always knew there was a hidden poet in you somewhere, Sev," she said, coming up for air at last. Technically, of course, she didn't need to breathe and neither did he. But habit was hard to break.

"The carriages," she reminded him. "We should get going. You've got a long time to make up for."

"Sixteen years, actually," he said, carrying her into the waiting black carriage. "Not that I'm counting."

"No, of course not." She paused. "I'm probably going to attack you with kisses right now and hold you tightly and never ever let you go. Would you mind terribly much?"

"I am, as always, at your service," he said wryly, spreading his hands in surrender.

"Oh, good. I knew there was a reason I loved you."

There was a sort of battle cry, a loud banging noise, a thump, a muffled exclamation, and then the carriage started rocking enthusiastically, precariously close to tipping over. Its pure white horses shook their manes at one another, snorted as if to say they'd seen it all before and carried on pulling the carriage through the air and into eternity.

Inside the carriage, Severus Snape was smiling.

_ we are home now _


End file.
